The Vast Unknown
by Furuba99SSBB
Summary: A young boy and girl run away from home, tired of all the misery and abuse they've had to put up with. They're off to Araluen and everything is going perfectly fine when suddenly they are separated! This is their story, from two different perspectives.


I realized after posting my first Ranger's Apprentice fanfic (which is now put on hold for this project) that I'd forgotten to put up the history of my main OC's! Not right! So, here's their beginning, alternating between the two siblings' points of view.

As you might have already noticed, I've changed a lot of things. I'll let you discover them along the way. ;)

And a big thank-you goes to Elfpen, who helped me _so much_ with this story. There were tips and tricks, as well as general guidelines and extremely helpful advice. Go, Elfpen! Thank you a million times! :D

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ranger's Apprentice, nor any of the brilliant characters that John Flanagan came up with.**

* * *

**~Lillian~**

I was ten, almost eleven, when my older (but not by much) brother Anthony told me that we were leaving. Leaving for somewhere else, where there wouldn't be abusive parents, or greedy barons, or outrageously inflated prices to pay for a loaf of bread.

"But...where will we go?" I asked him. I was young and immature at the time, thinking at first about simply teleporting anywhere else in the world like magic.

There was a long silence between us as he thought about where we could go. We weren't going to stay in this pathetic excuse of a country, that was for sure. But where could we go? We didn't have any relatives or friends outside a ten-mile radius, let alone outside the country!

At last he answered. "Pack your bag first. We're leaving tonight."

"But to _where_?" I persisted.

He then turned away from the window in our room, (if you could call it a room-it was more like a closet) with a strange light in his bright green eyes that I'd never seen before. Later, I'd learn that it meant determination.

"We're going to Araluen."

Those four words took my breath away. Of course, I'd heard of that strange yet wonderful land, the land of the free and home of the brave. Words had been whispered of the green-cloaked sort of 'secret police', and of their bravest warriors and knights in battle. Even all the way across the ocean here in Teutlandt, we'd heard of their legendary peoples.

But still, how were we supposed to travel all the way across the sea? We'd never traveled farther than a kilometer from the cottage; all our relatives were clustered together in a jumble of farmhouses. There wasn't even a school within a fifty-kilometer radius of us! Perhaps the Araluens could actually afford to send their children to school. For in Teutlandt, only the nobles' sons could go. I, personally, found that ridiculous. Anthony was probably smarter than all of those pompous fools combined, and-not to brag or anything, but-I came in pretty close.

He smiled to himself and murmured something. I couldn't quite figure out what he said, but it sounded like, "Fisherman's boat."

* * *

Later that night, I received a few hours' fitful sleep before Anthony woke me up.

"Ready?" he whispered. I nodded and got my single bag out from under the cot. It was light, yet big enough to carry some necessities.

He pulled out his bag of the same kind and together we began our journey to Araluen, where we would be free from all the corruptness of our country.

We managed to easily sneak past our parents' room. Anthony went first, keeping to the shadows and not making a sound. Then I followed, tip-toeing past the open doorway of _their_ room. And after that, there was the front door and freedom.

Anthony soundlessly opened the door and closed it behind us. I looked up at the stars overhead for the last time, going through the pictures in my mind's eye: the Faun, the Big Bear, the Wise Owl, the Playful Rabbit, and all the others that Anthony and I had made up together on the countless nights of troublesome worries and trying to escape from the horrors of the past.

"We're finally leaving," I whispererd to them. "I'll miss you all. But maybe I'll come visit some day."

Anthony smiled sadly and waved goodbye to the stars and the beautiful countryside, including the tall, distant mountains. I did the same. Then we began walking, to the nearby port that we knew was barely half-a-kilometer away. There, our journey to escape from our childhood troubles began.

On and on our feet pounded the faded paths of street after street, my mind became muddled and confused in the maze-like straights after all the unfamiliar turns, and I found myself nearly falling asleep walking as the boredom caught up to me, jolted awake again at random moments as the wind picked up or when my head suddenly drooped several inches.

At last, we reached it. Our first "destination"-the port.

Anthony took my hand and led me to the dock, where we walked around for a little bit, deciding which boat to use.

"That one's too big..."

"Well, that one doesn't look sturdy at all. And two of us would never fit in it."

"What about this?"

"No, the oars are damaged."

And so it went on, down the line, until finally there was only one little fisherman's boat left.

"Both of us would fit in it," Anthony began cautiously.

"The boat isn't damaged at all, nor are the oars. And the cork is tightly screwed and in place," I reported.

"So then..." he trailed off.

"I think we've found our boat!" we exclaimed in unison.

"How nice of you to realize," a _very_ familiar voice sneered. "But the thing is, that's _not_ your boat, and you're not going anywhere."

"Get in the boat," Anthony muttered out of the corner of his mouth. "I'll deal with _him_."

"I can't leave you," I protested.

"And you're not going to. Just do it!"

Reluctantly, I fell back, seemingly going to cower behind Anthony as I had when I was four, five years younger, then eased myself into the boat, pushing it just a bit farther out to sea. Our father cackled, a horribly loud sound, like fingernails scraping across chalkboard.

"What makes you think you can stop us now? You came too late," Anthony challenged him. "The boat's ready to go, and I'm right by it at the edge of the dock."

Our father cackled again. "Smart-mouth, wait until you see who I brought with me!"

Suddenly, a group of ten-something big, burly men rushed out from the trees. My heart sank. The Skandians. Oh yes, we'd heard all right of their raiding the coastline villages _and_ taking children and others who tried to stop them as slaves!

Now they stopped at my father's side. He smirked.

"You see, you despicable two children? You cannot stop me. I have these fifteen Skandians here, and some more coming, after they raid the whole village-except for _my_ cottage, of course," he sneered. Then he snapped his fingers and ordered, "Do it."

I gasped. The Skandians were going to take Anthony and force him to be a slave! Oh, the idiots! Didn't they realize he wasn't yet thirteen?

"Jump, Anthony! Jump!" I shouted. What mattered most was keeping Anthony out of those filthy Skandian hands. If it meant five, even ten more years of torture at the hands of our father, I didn't care.

Everything seemed to move as if in slow motion. Anthony turned, bent his knees, then sprang off the dock in a spectacular dive. With a jolt, I realized that I was now so far out to sea that the Skandians and our father wouldn't be able to hurt me. But what about Anthony?

The head Skandian suddenly lumbered forward and, at the last instant, grabbed his legs. The huge Skandian swayed for a moment, then regained his balance and stomped back to my father, dragging Anthony with him.

I jumped to my feet, uncaring that I would probably fall off the boat. "Anthony!" I screamed.

He looked up from his awkward position, slung over that filthy Skandian's shoulder, and smiled sadly at me. "Sail across the sea, Lillian!" he called to me. "Go to Araluen and seek help there! I promise I'll make it eventually!"

I waved, tears streaming down my face. "I'll come looking for you if you don't, Anthony! Don't forget!" It was absurd, but the truth. He and I were inseparable. Our bond had, over the years, become far more than a mere brother-and-sister type of friendship.

"Don't give up, Anthony!" I shouted. "You'll make it out of there!"

He waved, and was about to say something further when our father slapped him.

Then he turned to me, that sickly smirk still on his face, and yelled, "Slagor! Take him away!"

I watched, open-mouthed with shock, as they tied him up and then...that fool. That total, stinking _idiot_. The one our father had called 'Slagor'.

I felt a burning hatred then, for my father and those blasted Skandians that had taken my brother. I wanted so much to row after them and simply snatch Anthony back. But how would that be possible? I was only eleven years old. And I was a girl. What could _I_ do?

* * *

After some amount of hours of gentle rocking back and forth on the waves, and rowing ever closer to Araluen, I decided to rest my tired arms for a bit and eat something. I opened my little bag, containing the only possessions I had left now, and took out some stale bread. I crunched moodily on it. There wasn't much other food in there. Maybe another crust or two of bread, a small canteen of dirty water, and perhaps some shriveled-up carrots and potatoes. That was it.

I looked back the way I'd come. The dock was now only a faint line on the horizon, blending in with the dull greens and browns of the rest of the coastline.

I squinted up at the sun. It was just overhead now. I sighed, turned forward, and began rowing again, taking occasional rests and snack breaks as needed.

When the sun finally set, I tried unsuccessfully to form a comfortable sleeping space using my bag and the planks set in the boat. The oars I pushed to the side. Then I rolled over and fell asleep, exhausted.

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, my head felt heavy and groggy, my mind dulled and useless. It was cold outside, though the sun was shining. I shivered and pulled a light cloak out of my bag to put on.

I sat up, stretched a little to ease my aching joints, and took out a potato from the bag. I devoured it in a few gulps.

Then, reluctantly, I grabbed the oars and started rowing. It was the second day of my journey into the vast unknown, alone. How I missed Anthony! Was he doing all right? Were the Skandians treating him all right? And what of his slave's work? Would they force him to cook? To clean? Cut firewood, perhaps? Or maybe even worse?

I shuddered and put it out of my mind for the time being. It was then that I noticed the rocky shore of a small island in front of me.

* * *

So, there we go. Chapter One of The Vast Unknown! :) Hope it wasn't too horrible or too long and that you enjoyed. Thank you again, Elfpen! Please review! :D


End file.
